Open Yourself to Joy
by noburningliberacemannequins
Summary: A series of not necessarily connected one-shots, based on 64 prompts I got off LJ. May or may not be 64 chapters. My first try at something like this, so please read and review! Any and almost all pairings, characters, situations - it should be good!
1. 2 am

**A/N: New story! Yay! I had two Glee-fics planned before this one, and neither of them worked out, so I decided to try something new, and do one of these prompt fics. I don't really have a running theme – I'm just going to write whatever I feel like writing on the word. No particular pairing, sometimes non-canonical, perhaps a lot of Quinn-centric, maybe a songfic or two. Who knows? I hope you like the first part! Oh, and just to let you know, there is not meant to be any femslash in this chapter – just friendship!**

_2 a.m. and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake, "Can you help me unravel my latest mistake..."_

I lay under the covers of my bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. Aside from these stars, the room is pitch black. I can't go to sleep. I know I should, because I need my beauty rest, but sleep just won't come. I shouldn't feel guilty for what I did – Finn had the right to know – but a little voice in my head tells me it wasn't my place to say anything. And what Quinn said to me afterwards – it should have made me feel better but it didn't. The look on her face told me that I'd made a girl whose life had already gone down the toilet hit the ocean floor. I normally have very strong convictions, but right now I am waffling – and Rachel Berry does not waffle.

My cell phone starts to vibrate and sing out a grainy version of 'Defying Gravity' from my nightstand. I grab it, startled, and look at the glowing screen on its front – I don't recognize the number, but I am shocked to see it's nearly two o'clock in the morning. I debate shutting the phone off and going back to counting sheep, but I know whoever is calling must have something important to say. So I flip open the phone and press the cold fiberglass to my ear.

"Hello?"

"R-Rachel?" Says a shaky, but familiar, voice.

"Quinn?" I ask, in shock partly because I don't know how she got my phone number and partly because I never thought I'd be the person she would call up in the middle of the night.

"Are you alright?" I ask tentatively.

"Could you come get me?" She blurts out, and then she starts crying. I feel tears prick at my own eyes – I have always been a very empathetic person.

"Oh! Don't cry, Quinn! I'm coming now, where are you?"

"In my car, in the school parking lot," she manages to choke out. I stifle a gasp. That cannot be good for her or the baby.

"I'll be there in ten minutes, Quinn. Don't worry!" I hear her whisper a thank you, and then a soft click indicating she has hung up. I get out of bed and throw on a fluffy pink bathrobe over my nightgown. I slip quietly downstairs and leave a note for Dad and Daddy in case they wake up, then throw on my pink Uggs, grab my car keys, and walk out the door to my car.

When I turn the key in the ignition, the engine lets out a louder hum than normal and a light goes on in my dads' room. I sigh, because I really didn't want to wake them up, but I'm lad I had the foresight to write a note. I back out of the driveway and go to school.

When I get there, the only car in the parking lot is Quinn's. I recognize it because it's the only car in the parking lot in the mornings, aside from mine, that is that bright – it's a cherry red convertible. Thank goodness the top is up. I park next to the car, and I see Quinn curled up in the backseat, her hand tracing the roundness of her middle and her eyes red and puffy. I get out of my own car and shiver in the cold night air before knocking on the door of her car. She opens it, and I slide in next to her.

"Quinn, what happened?" I ask gently.

"When Finn found out the truth, I went home to his house and packed my stuff. I left a note on the table for his mom, and drove away. So I went to Santana's house, but when she saw it was me, she slammed the door in my face." She pauses and takes a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking voice. "I didn't even bother going to Brittany's because I knew Santana would have told her to ignore me." A tear winds its way down her cheek.

"I was going to go to Puck's after that. But then I – I remembered I told him I wanted to do this on my own." Her voice cracks, and more tears find their way out of her already cried-out eyes.

"I can't face him now," she whispers.

I wrap my arms around her and rub her back. It's what my Daddy does when he tries to comfort me. Quinn starts crying in earnest and buries her face in my bathrobe.

"Rachel, what have I done?" She asks me, her voice muffled by the fuzz of the robe.

"Quinn," I say, trying to keep my emotions in check. "You are a person who made a mistake. _Everybody_ makes mistakes." She starts to protest, but I talk over her.

"No matter how many mistakes you made, they were all for her, weren't they? They were all for your daughter, Quinn, and even if the mistakes were that bad, they are forgivable. Your intentions were only good ones, and that mean they _will_ forgive you. It may take time, but they will." Quinn sniffles and looks up at me.

"I'm a horrible person," she whispers. "I ruined Finn's life, I ruined Puck's life, I ruined _Mr, Schue's_ life. How is that forgivable?" I sigh. She really doesn't get it does she?

"Quinn, if you were really a horrible person, you wouldn't feel this guilty over ruining their lives, _which you didn't do._ They might be hurting right now, but they'll survive. And when they get over the shock, they're sure to forgive you." I'm finally out of things to say, which doesn't happen very often.

"You really think that?" She looks me in the eyes, as if she thinks she'll find a different answer there, but since I really do believe it, she doesn't. Finally, she says a quiet 'thank you.'

"Any time," I respond. "Now, we're both going to get in my car, and I'm going to take you to my house, where you're going to live from now on." Quinn looks at me, bewildered.

"I was just going to ask you to take me to the women's shelter. I didn't think I was in any state to drive"

"Quinn, if you think I'm going to let you live there when you are five months pregnant, you are sadly mistaken." She nods slightly, still in shock, and I take that to mean aquiescence. Besides, I wouldn't have taken no for an answer.

"But what will I do with my car?" She asks.

"We'll leave it here tonight and my Dad will drive us to school tomorrow. We'll drive your car home in the afternoon.

"Oh," she says. She looks really exhausted. And now I'm starting to feel my lack of sleep catching up on me. I look at the clock on the radio. Three-thirty in the morning. I decide now is a good time to be going home, so we quickly switch to my car and drive home.

When we get there, my dads are sitting expectantly at the kitchen table with mugs sitting on the table in front them. but the minute they see Quinn's lethargic form, thy give me a look that says 'we'll talk in the morning' and help me bring her upstairs to the guest room.

But as I'm climbing into bed and snuggling under the covers, Quinn shuffles into my room, looking very small despite her expanding middle.

"I – I don't want to be alone," she says quietly. So I wave her to the bed and she gets under the covers next to me. She gives me a small hug, and falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. I give her a small smile, and then welcome sleep. It comes much easier now.


	2. Metaphor

**A/N: I think this might be the fastest I've ever updated a story before. But I had the chapter written, so figured why the hell not? I tried to write it a bit like it's form the mind of a six-year old. Hopefully I succeeded. Here you go – enjoy!**

It was raining outside. Not just a little drizzle, but a full-on storm. And it was because of this storm that Mrs. Johnson's first grade class was inside for recess. Brittany sat on a square in the carpet at the reading center, but she didn't touch the books. Even her favorite, Rumplestiltskin's Daughter, sat forlornly on its shelf. Brittany had wanted to do cartwheels outside with Santana and Quinn during recess, but both of them were out sick. She figured she could do them by herself, but then it started pouring, so she couldn't even do that. A sigh escaped her pouted lips. Cartwheels were her favorite.

Brittany sensed someone sit down next to her. She looked to her left, and saw the quiet boy with jet black hair. He was looking at her, his eyes full of curiosity.

"Why are you so sad?" He asked her. Brittany was so shocked he was talking, she didn't say anything for a full minute. She just sat there with her mouth open and her blue eyes wide. The boy waved a hand in front of her face, wondering if she'd fallen asleep with her eyes open or something. It seemed to make her snap out of it though, because she started rambling.

"Well, my bestest friends in the whole wide world are Quinn and Santana but they aren't here today and I wanted to do cartwheels but now it's raining so I can't and I'm really sad!"

The boy looked confused for a second, but then he seemed to figure out what she said. His eyes flashed with something Brittany didn't know the word for, and the next moment it became clear that his mission for the day was to cheer up this mysterious blonde girl. The boy smiled, then stood up and started hopping from one foot to the other.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" He exclaimed, putting on his best 'in-pain' face. Brittany looked at him, alarmed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He looked at her as if she didn't know something that was painfully obvious.

"The floor is made of hot lava! We've gotta get to safety!" Brittany jumped up and started hopping with him.

"Over there!" She cried, pointing at some desks that weren't being used. Together, the two jumped off the carpet and across the linoleum floor to the desks, where they climbed on top of the desks and sat down, panting and pretending to wipe sweat off their foreheads.

"Phew! That was close!" said Brittany, relieved they'd gotten out of the lava on time.

"Yeah!" agreed the boy. "Who knows what would've happened to us? We would've been sharkmeat!"

"Yeah – hey, what's sharkmeat?"

"I – I don't know. I just hear my dad say it all the time." Brittany looked up at him and grinned before cracking up. The boy started laughing too, and it seemed like forever until they could stop.

"Thanks for saving me – hey, I don't know your name!" exclaimed Brittany. "What's your name?"

"Mike," the boy responded.

"I like that name,: she said. "I'm Brittany."

"I like your name too," Mike said shyly.

"Thanks for saving me, Mike!"

"No problem, Brittany!"

For the rest of recess, they sat on top of the desks talking. They found out each others favorites, like colors and animals and stuff, and they both _loved_ to dance. When Mrs. Johnson told everyone recess was over, Mike and Brittany were sad. They wanted to keep talking. And even though Brittany would never, _ever_ tell Quinn or Santana, it was the _funnest_ recess she ever had, ever.

But Mrs. Johnson just wouldn't let up. So she called them to the carpet for reading time. Mike sighed and moved to get off the desk, but Brittany grabbed his hand.

"Mike, what are you doing?" she asked, scared for his life.

"I'm going to reading time," he said, as if the answer was obvious. It should have been, too. Everyone else in the class was already on the carpet. Mike looked to Mrs. Johnson, who was waiting expectantly, and Brittany followed his gaze. She looked stricken.

"But Mike! Isn't the floor lava?"


	3. Lost Scene

**A/N: New chapter already! Well, I already had this one written, but oh well… anyway, a quick note on chapter one: I wrote that before the back nine started so that's why Quinn went to live with Rachel – I didn't yet know about the fabulousness that is Mercedes/Quinn friendship! Anyway, enjoy this new chapter. It's a bit short… sorry!**

Hot tears blinded Quinn's sight as went around her room, throwing things into her Cheerios duffel bag at random. Fury, and hurt, and confusion raged through her veins. How could they _do_ this to her? They were supposed to be her parents, supposed to stand by her no matter how many mistakes she made.

She tugged an old sweatshirt and sweat pant set off the top shelf of her closet, and something else tumbled to the floor along with it. It was a shoebox, now upside down and its lid off. The contents, which proved to be old photos, had spilled onto the carpet. Quinn stopped in her tracks. She didn't remember this box. She knelt down, and flipped the box over, intending to pack it back up and put it away again. But before she could a photo caught her eye.

An easily recognizable five-year-old Quinn was wearing a yellow ball gown – Belle's from Beauty and the Beast – and standing next to a small girl with dark brown hair in a gold costume that was most definitely a star. They were holding out pillowcases filled with candy, and grinning at each other. It took Quinn a nanosecond to realize the girl next to her was Rachel Berry. Her eyes went wide in disbelief. They were clearly the best of friends. What was this? Forgetting everything else, she flipped over the rest of the pictures. All of them were of Quinn ages zero through six. All of the photos from three to six were of her with Manhands.

_Why can't I remember this?_ Quinn thought frantically. _Treasure trail and I were best friends?_ And all of a sudden, there was a flash of a scene long forgotten by Quinn. Her father was shouting at her, saying that they couldn't be friends anymore, that Quinn wasn't even to talk to her ever again, lest she go down to the bad place as well. She was confused about the last bit then, but now she understood perfectly. Quinn felt hatred bubbling up inside of her. She had no reason to feel protective of Rachel, so why was she just so… _angry_? She gathered all the photos of her and Rachel and carefully put them into her duffel. She was surprised at how calmly she put the other photos – of her with her parents, her sister, at church, on mission trips with her youth group – in small piles. Then, all of her anger exploded out of her and she roughly grabbed a pile and shredded the photos into small bits. She watched as they drifted to the ground. The rest of the shiny pictures followed suit, and Quinn stomped the bits into the pink carpet. She was about to let out an angry scream and stomp once again on the scraps of photo paper when a deep voice called up to her.

"Ms. Fabray, your time is up," it said. Something inside of Quinn hardened. Since when did a father call their daughter by her last name? She zipped up her Cheerios' bag and grabbed her pillow and ragged old teddy bear before walking out of room for the last time. She marched downstairs and met Finn, who took the duffel bag to carry, and was about to follow him out the door when she felt someone grab her wrist. She spun around to find herself face to face with her mother. The expression on her face almost made Quinn want to give her one last hug, but then she remembered – her mother was kicking her out of the only home she had ever known.

"Quinn – Quinnie, what happened to you?" She whispered, tears threatening to fall from her heavily made up eyes.

"What happened to _me_?" Quinn responded harshly. "What happened to you? You are supposed to be my _mother_." The older woman blinked a few times, and her grip on Quinn's wrist went slack. For a moment it seemed like she wanted to say something, like she wanted to gather Quinn in her arms and tell her it would all be okay, but her husband came up behind her, glaring at Quinn. So she kept silent, and Quinn shook her head and walked out of her home for the last time, without looking back.


End file.
